Untitled
by rps-lizardspock
Summary: Post Exit Wounds; Ianto's left alone at the hub.


**Title:** Untitled  
**Author:** Melissa  
**Characters:** Ianto, Jack  
**Rating:** G  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Torchwood, or anything relating to Torchwood.  
**Summary:** Post Exit Wounds; Ianto's left alone in the hub.  
**Warning:** Um, kinda sad. Totally unbeta'd.  
**Notes:** I try to avoid Post Exit Wounds fics because they make me sad and I've decided not to deal with what happened until there's a new season and I have no other choice (it's a nice place here in denial land) so I don't know what possessed me to write this. I'm blaming it on the late hour and my lack of sleep. This is my first Torchwood fic, so I hope it's alright.

* * *

You feel the death, and it's all encompassing. You've felt it before, of course, but somehow this is worse, and you pause a second to think. Last time it was friends, it was co-workers. This time it was your team, your family. Even remembering the loss of Lisa isn't as bad as this. With her you knew it was coming, deep down. You'd had time to prepare. This was sudden, it was unexpected, and it's rocked your world like a massive earthquake destroying everything you've worked so hard to build for yourself in the last two years.

You look around the now empty hub; Gwen went home to Rhys hours ago and Jack mumbled something about weevils and the rift before walking out shortly after. You knew it was best for Gwen if she was with her husband right now, but the selfish part of you wish she had stayed. If she had stayed maybe Jack would have, too, and you wouldn't have to be alone right now. You know he'll be back, and you know in a day or so she will be, too, but the loss of Owen and Tosh is so great and you're finding youself wishing for any kind of comapny.

You hear the faint humming of Tosh's computer still running. You noticed earlier that she had one of her programs that no one else ever understood running and you couldn't bring yourself to stop it and turn it off. So you listen to the humming and you somehow feel a part of her is in the room with you now. It's illogical thought, because you know she's not, but if you close your eyes and just listen, you can lie to yourself and pretend she's sitting there waiting for the program to install, or update, or whatever it was she was doing.

You walk to the autopsy room and you can almost taste the bleach the aroma is so strong. You just spent the better part of two hours cleaning her blood off the floor and all that is left is the smell of cleaner. You walk over to the table and idly play with the instruments that Owen had left lying about. On a normal day you would have cleared them all up for him and put them away just the way he liked, but today wasn't a normal day. There would never be another normal day. So you leave them there, a sad smile on your face as you remember the owner of the random medical tools. It's been less than a day, but that day seems to be lasting an eternity and your heart swells with grief.

You've yet to cry, something Gwen made a point to address, but you know it won't be long. You're about ready to leave for home when you hear the cog door roll open. You look over to see Jack walking in, and you know, you knew the second he left, that he wasn't anywhere near weevils after he'd gone. But he's back now and he's smiling sadly at you. You knew he just needed some space, so you let him go before, but now he's standing there staring at you and it takes everything you have not to launch yourself into his arms. You walk to him slowly and you hesitate, not knowing what to expect from him right now. After a few seconds he reaches forward and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly like he's afraid you'll disappear if he slackens his grip.

The tears are falling now and you find yourself sobbing into his shoulder. You want to be the one comforting him, afterall he's just been through 2000 years of hell, but you can't stop yourself and he's still clinging to you and rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering comforting words to you that you're not really hearing.

You don't know how long you're stading there crying into his arms, both of you mourning, but eventually the two of you break apart. He holds you at arms length, examining you for something, though you're not quite sure what. He's seemingly satisfied as he grabs your hand and you let him lead you through the hub to his room. Myfanwy and the weevils have been fed, everything is closed down for the night and there's nothing left to do for the day but sleep and hope you don't feel so numb in the morning.

You notice Jack notice that you haven't shut down Tosh's workspace, or cleaned up Owen's medical bay and you're greatful that he accepts this without a word or further inclination. You all had packed up all their belongings earlier, as per Torchwood procedure, but these were things you could keep, for the time being, as little reminders of the part of your family that was taken from you not 24 hours ago and neither of you seem to want to part with them.

Jack has succesfully gotten you to his bed and the two of you strip off your clothes and climb under the covers. There's a big day ahead of both of you tomorrow. The city is still in need of rebuilding, something you personally promised that Torchwood would help with.

Like Jack said, the end is where we start from, and tomorrow you would worry about rebuilding and moving on, starting over, but right here, right now, you're perfectly content to lie in the arms of the man you love and allow yourselves to reassure each other that eventually, though not anytime soon, everything was going to be alright.


End file.
